


Here We Go Again

by MostGeckcellent



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo, Mamma Mia! (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Mamma Mia! (Movies), M/M, Multi, Other, Trans Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Trans Male Character, Trans Pregnancy, in other words the mamma mia au no one asked for, once again I am writing a niche au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29905020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostGeckcellent/pseuds/MostGeckcellent
Summary: Courfeyrac has just graduated from university, and before he settles down into the nice, safe career his father has chosen for him, he wants to explore the world, see what there is to see, maybe meet some hot guys along the way, you know?He throws a dart and a map and ends up on a trip to a remote Greek island. What will happen along the way?
Relationships: Bahorel/Feuilly/Jean Prouvaire, Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Combeferre/Courfeyrac/Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Combeferre/Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Cosette Fauchelevent/Éponine Thénardier, Courfeyrac/Enjolras (Les Misérables), Courfeyrac/Grantaire
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone who knows the plot of mamma mia 1 and 2, none of this will be surprising, I don't think? This is, however, the most explicit thing I've ever written. idk if I'll do anything this explicit again, but it seemed necessary for what this fic is, y'know? That said, be kind :)  
> Courfeyrac is a trans guy, and this is a magical fantasy musical land where no one is homophobic or transphobic, yay! 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy :)

Alexandre de Courfeyrac is graduating from a prestigious university with a prestigious law degree. No one is entirely sure how he pulled it off, given he spent the entirety of his time partying and drinking and goofing off, but he’s done it, and now.. Now he has a shiny piece of paper to show for it, and an internship at his father’s law firm waiting for him. 

“I just think,” he says, dangling upside down off the edge of his bed, “that there’s more out there, you know?”

“Absolutely,” his best friend, Jehan, agrees. Jehan is dangling next to him, their long braid sweeping the floor. 

“I don’t want to just go and be a boring old lawyer now,” Courfeyrac complains. 

“Then don’t.” Cosette is sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed between the pair of them. 

“What else do I do?” He’s supposed to have a plan. He doesn’t want the plan, but there’s always been someone there to make plans for him. 

Jehan rolls off the bed in an impressive feat of acrobatics, and grabs a world map. They pin it to the wall, and return again with Courfeyrac’s darts that he stole from a bar somewhere. “Throw a dart,” they suggest. “Whatever land it hits, go there.” 

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” 

Courfeyrac considers it for a moment, weighs the dart in his hand, and then nods, his decision made. “Alright, I will.” 

His first throw lands solidly in the middle of the arctic ocean. “Maybe not there,” Cosette suggests delicately. 

His second lands in another ocean, and so does his third. 

“The world  _ is  _ made up of 70% water,” Jehan observes. 

“I swear I’m a better shot when I’m drunk.” Courfeyrac walks up to study the map, hands on his hips. He leans in, and makes a sound of surprise. “Hey, I did hit something.” It’s an island, barely big enough to show up on the map - just a pinprick, really, off the coast of Greece. 

“Ooooh,” Cosette walks up to look with him. “Greece. That’ll be lovely. And,” she wiggles her eyebrows at him. “Greek boys.” 

Courfeyrac wiggles his eyebrows right back. “Greek boys indeed.” He glances over his shoulder at the map, and then back at Cosette and Jehan. He frowns. “What about you?”

Cosette grips his arm tight. “If you need us, you know we’ll be there, but won’t it be such an adventure? To do this yourself?”

Courfeyrac has always been surrounded by people. He’s always made friends easily, and lovers even easier, but constant through it have been Jehan and Cosette. He can’t imagine being without them. 

“You could come with me,” he suggests. “One last hurrah for Courfeyrac and the Dynamos.” 

“Oh, hush.” Jehan bops him in the nose. “There’ll never be any last anything for us and you know it. We’ll always be your friends.” 

“But you won’t come with me,” Courfeyrac pouts. 

“Boo, you know I want to,” Cosette says, apologetic. “But you know what? You’re going to have a blast. I know it. We all need to do things on our own now and then, don’t you think?” 

Courfeyrac sighs dramatically and flops on the bed again. “Fine. Fine! I  _ will  _ go on my own. And I won’t miss you at all.” He points at Cosette, and then Jehan. 

“Liar,” Jehan snorts. 

“Maybe so,” Courfeyrac sniffs. “I’ll never tell.” 

He doesn’t plan much. He packs only a single backpack - a change of clothes, some soap - the essentials. He books his flight, and allows himself a couple of nights layover in Paris. “The city of love,” he waxes poetic when he describes the loose plan to Jehan and Cosette a few days later. “Who knows, maybe I’ll meet a cute french boy, too.” 

Jehan sighs wistfully. “Maybe you’ll share a kiss on the lock bridge.” 

“A whirlwind three-day romance before I move on, whisked away by my wanderlust. It’s a tragedy, but it cannot end any other way,” Courfeyrac swoons dramatically. 

“You’re both full of shit,” Cosette laughs at them both. 

“What, you think I can’t snag me a cute french boy?” Courfeyrac asks, placing an offended hand on his chest and recoiling back. 

Cosette laughs. “Oh, I know you can, I’ve seen you in action.” 

“Damn right,” Courfeyrac says, satisfied. 

Jehan and Cosette see him off. Jehan has a handkerchief and everything that they’re sniffling into dramatically as they wave. Courfeyrac plants a kiss on each of their cheeks before bounding into the airport. He’s ready to go. “First Paris, then the world. Well - Kalokairi.” 

  
  
  


Paris is wet. It’s raining when Courfeyrac arrives, and he manages to snag the last room in a hostel. He’s sharing it with another man, who introduces himself as Henri. Apparently, he’s here for some political event or other. Henri isn’t bad-looking, his accent is sexy, and he seems nice enough. “Join me?” he invites Courfeyrac to the protest, and Courfeyrac shrugs and agrees. Why not? 

It’s raining the day of the protest, too, which is unfair, because Courfyerac’s hair had been perfectly curled and styled, and now it’s just plastered against his head. His eyeliner is smudged, too, and overall, his meticulous look is screaming less ‘sexy but I make it look easy’ and more ‘drowned rat’. 

It’s worth it, though. Courfeyrac may have come for Henri and his cute accent, but it’s the leader of the event, dressed in a scarlet coat and speaking with the most mesmerizing, passionate voice that Courfeyrac has ever heard, that keeps his attention. “Who’s that?” he asks his hostel-mate. 

“Oh, that’s Enjolras, he’s the one who organized this whole thing,” Henri tells him. “He’s impressive, isn’t he? I’ve seen him speak a couple times.” 

“He sure is something,” Courfeyrac murmurs his agreement. 

Courfeyrac’s sophomore-level french isn’t enough to let him comprehend much of what’s being said, in the end, but he doesn't need to understand it to be swept up in the energy anyway. He cheers and boos and snaps with the rest of the crowd, and manages the chants just fine. When the event comes to an end, and people start to disperse, Courfeyrac finds himself making his way towards the stage. 

“Oh!” In a twist of fate, he is bumped by someone else moving the other way, and stumbles directly into the arms of a beautiful man in a red coat. Enjolras. “Hello. Uh. Bonjour?” He hopes he doesn’t butcher it too badly. 

“You’re American?” Enjolras raises a bemused eyebrow, arms still on Courfeyrac’s shoulders to steady him. His english is pretty good, it turns out.

Courfeyrac blushes. “Ah. Yeah, I uh. My roommate at the hostel invited me,” he explains. He looks around, but can’t spot Henri anywhere. 

“What did you think?” Enjolras asks. 

“You were mesmerizing,” Courfeyrac says, leaning in. His hand brushes against Enjolras’. “I have no idea what you said, but I agree wholeheartedly. You’re a fantastic speaker.” 

Enjolras frowns at him. “You shouldn’t agree if you don’t know what I was saying-” 

Courfeyrac waves a hand. “Henri told me the gist of the thing before we got here,” he assures Enjolras. “Labour rights and wage inequality and hiring discrimination and stuff, I’m with you on that, promise.” 

Enjolras is still frowning, but it lessens slightly. 

“Anyway, I don’t need to speak French to know I want to hear you talk some more,” Courfeyrac says with a coy smile, looking Enjolras up and down. 

Enjolras is clearly taken aback, but at least this time he seems to notice that Courfeyrac is flirting. He looks at Courfeyrac, evaluating, and seems to come to some sort of a decision. “I’m going out with some friends to celebrate,” he says. “Join me?”

Cha-ching. Courfeyrac doesn’t fist pump, but he wants to. Enjolras hasn’t told him to piss off, and that’s a start. He still can’t spot Henri anywhere, and, well, he’s set his sights elsewhere now, so he nods. “I’d love that,” he says sincerely, smiling at Enjolras through long lashes. 

They end up in a club. The music is loud, but Courfeyrac thinks the DJ is good. “You want a drink?” Enjolras asks him. 

“Gin and tonic,” Courfeyrac requests, and Enjolras nods and goes to get it for him. When Courfeyrac takes the glass from him, he lets his hand linger. Enjolras looks down at their hands, and back up at Courfeyrac’s face. His eyes linger on Courfeyrac’s lips, and Courfeyrac lets them curl into a coquettish smile. 

“Thank you,” he all but purrs. He takes a sip of his drink, letting his lips linger on the edge of the straw. Enjolras’ gaze is heavy on him. 

“My pleasure,” Enjolras assures him, and he sounds like he means it. 

One of his friends comes along, and they discuss something in rapid-fire french that Courfeyrac can’t quite follow. Enjolras gestures towards him a couple of times, and Courfeyrac wonders what’s being said. Eventually, though, the friend says something that makes Enjolras blush, laughs, and then walks away again to dance with someone Courfeyrac thinks he also saw speak today. 

“Come and dance with me,” Courfeyrac invites, holding out a hand. Enjolras takes it. 

They dance all night. Courfeyrac has a couple more drinks, not enough to get drunk, just pleasantly tipsy. Enjolras does the same. Courfeyrac thinks it’s promising that both of them seem to be trying to stay just on the right side of sober - Enjolras strikes him as the sort of guy who won’t fuck him if he’s drunk, and well, he very much wants to get laid tonight. 

A few drinks in, and Courfeyrac and Enjolras are dancing skin-close. Courfeyrac grinds on Enjolras as the beat drops, and Enjolras runs his hands up Courfeyrac’s sides. There’s a heat in Enjolras’ gaze, and Courfeyrac thinks it matches his own. He dances a little closer, presses his lips to Enjolras’ shoulder. He kisses him there, and then bites, just a little. Enjolras makes a noise - surprise, and something else, too, Courfeyrac thinks. 

“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?” Courfeyrac asks. It’s very nearly the only french he can remember right now. 

Enjolras wrinkles his nose, and snorts out a laugh. “Tu es ridicule,” he mutters, but he kisses Courfeyrac anyway. 

“Tu m’aimes,” Courfeyrac says, and he butchers it, but at least Enjolras seems to be charmed by it. 

“Viens,” Enjolras takes his hand, and they head for the door. 

They take a cab back to Enjolras’ apartment, and they can hardly keep their hands to each other. Enjolras passes what looks like a generous tip to the driver when they arrive, and pulls Courfeyrac inside. Courfeyrac follows eagerly. Enjolras is on him the moment the door shuts behind them, hands on Courfeyrac’s waist, pressing him back against the door. Courfeyrac reaches for Enjolras’ jacket, pushing it back off of his shoulders, and then Enjolras’ shirt. 

Courfeyrac has a moment of anxiety when Enjolras returns the favour, and hesitates over Courfeyrac’s binder. “On or off?” Enjolras asks, and Courfeyrac relaxes, relieved. He hadn’t thought Enjolras would be a transphobe, but he’s been surprised before. 

“Off,” Courfeyrac says, and Enjolras nods. It’s not sexy, shimmying out of a binder, but Enjolras is patient. Well - he’s not patient, exactly, he’s not keeping his hands to himself, and he gets in the way a little, but he doesn’t seem to be turned off, at least, by the unsexy wiggle Courfeyrac has to do to get it over his chest. Then they are kissing again, and Courfeyrac is the one who has Enjolras backed against the wall. 

“Bedroom,” Enjolras gasps when Courfeyrac sucks a mark onto his neck, and Courfeyrac lets him lead the way. 

They fall into bed. Enjolras kisses across Courfeyrac’s jaw and down his neck; Courfeyrac reaches for Enjolras’ belt buckle. Courfeyrac is distracted by Enjolras’ teeth on his chest, and he moans, head falling back. Enjolras takes this as encouragement, and continues. His hands wander steadily downward, until he reaches the waist of Courfeyrac’s brightly patterned pants. His hand slips past the waistband easily, and Courfeyrac gasps, arching into the touch. “Tease,” Courfeyrac accuses, when Enjolras only brushes his hand nearby, and away again. 

“What’s the rush?” Enjolras asks with a wicked smile. 

Courfeyrac renews his efforts at Enjolras’ belt, and before long has it loosened. He means to tug Enjolras’ neatly pressed slacks down, but Enjolras once again distracts him with a brush of his hand up Courfeyrac’s inner thigh. Even through the fabric of his pants, it’s electrifying. 

Courfeyrac pushes himself up in the bed, and kisses Enjolras, and before long they are both naked except for their underwear. He looks at Enjolras, soaks in the sight. Enjolras is gorgeous. “You’re fucking stunning,” Courfeyrac says out loud. He twists them around so he can press Enjolras down on the bed again, straddling his waist. He presses slow kisses down Enjolras’ chest, nips with his teeth at Enjolras’ sharp waist. Enjolras reaches out for him. His fingers tangle in Courfeyrac’s curls, which have dried from the rain into a veritable mess by now, and Courfeyrac grins into Enjolras’ skin as he presses a series of slow kisses to the inside of Enjolras’ thigh, and Enjolras moans and tugs, apparently involuntarily, on Courfeyrac’s hair. 

“What’s the rush?” Courfeyrac throws Enjolras’ own words back at him, and Enjolras mutters a string of curse words in french. 

By the time Courfeyrac finally gets his mouth on Enjolras, Enjolras’ boxer briefs discarded on the floor, Enjolras is nearly ready to combust. He isn’t ready for this to end so soon, though. When he feels himself getting too close, he pushes Courfeyrac gently off of him, and manoeuvres them so that he can spread Courfeyrac’s legs. He peels Courfeyrac’s own underwear off of him, and kisses slow up his thighs. “Tell me if I do anything you don’t like,” he demands, and Courfeyrac nods frantically. 

“Yes, yes, fine,” he agrees, “Just get on with it.” 

“I mean it. I don’t want to cross any boundaries-” 

“Oh my god, just get your mouth on me, holy fuck,” Courfeyrac whines, and Enjolras very kindly obliges. 

Enjolras, it turns out, is skilled with his tongue in more ways than one. Courfeyrac is trembling, and on the other end of his first orgasm of the night by the time Enjolras lets up. “Jesus fuck,” he breathes, letting his head fall back onto the pillow with a muffled thump. 

“Are you alright?” Enjolras asks, suddenly concerned. 

“Alright? Enj, I am fucking transcendent, holy shit.” 

“Transcendent..?” Enjolras repeats the word with an adorably confused french accept, and Courfeyrac defines it for him, before gathering himself enough to sit up, and pull Enjolras close. He rolls over so he’s straddling Enjolras’ lap. 

“I want to ride you,” he declares. 

“Merde,” Enjolras breathes, and nods. “Yes. Please.” 

“Condom?”

Enjolras reaches into the drawer of his bedside table and tosses Courfeyrac a little foil packet. Courfeyrac rolls it onto Enjolras, and then raises his hips, lowering himself slowly. 

“Merde,” Enjolras breathes as he does. “Courfeyrac.” 

“Enjolras,” Courfeyrac echoes, eyes fluttering closed. 

Neither of them last long. When they are done, Courfeyrac rolls off of Enjolras. They both lie still for a moment, before Enjolras sits up to tie off and throw out the condom. He returns to the bed, and Courfeyrac drags him close to cuddle for a while. They fall asleep like that, Courfeyrac wrapped around Enjolras, an arm slung over Enjolras’ waist. 

Courfeyrac wakes in a strange bed. Enjolras has both arms and legs wrapped around him like a limpet. It’s sort of adorable, honestly. He does his best not to move - he doesn’t want to wake Enjolras, who is still sleeping like the dead. His mouth is open just a bit, and his hair is a mess. Courfeyrac can spot a mark on Enjolras’ neck, bright red against his skin, and he grins to himself. 

Enjolras wakes up a little while later, when the sun is streaming in even through the flimsy blinds. “Qu’est ce que..” he mumbles, and then he seems to remember. “Courfeyrac.” 

“The one and only.” Courfeyrac leans in and steals a kiss, ignoring the morning breath. 

“Mm. Now this is a nice way to wake up,” Enjolras murmurs, and he leans in to kiss Courfeyrac in turn. 

“It sure is.” 

They have lazy morning sex, and then go out to a nearby patisserie for breakfast. “Are you staying in Paris long?” Enjolras asks over coffee and crepes. 

“Three more days,” Courfeyrac says. He adds sugar to his coffee, and sticks his tongue out when Enjolras makes a face. “We can’t all be french,” he jokes. 

“Americans,” Enjolras mutters, and shakes his head, but he’s smiling. 

“What brings you to Paris?” Enjolras asks. They’re walking through a part of the city that isn’t in Courfeyrac’s tourist brochures. It’s local, and a little hipster, and he loves it. 

“Well, I graduated law school. I was supposed to go work for my father. I decided I’m not ready for that yet,” Courfeyrac summarizes. 

Enjolras nods slowly. “You shouldn’t let yourself be pushed into something you don’t want.” 

“I don’t know what I want,” Courfeyrac admits. 

“Sure you do,” Enjolras disagrees. “You’re just still caught up thinking about what you should want.” 

“Huh.” Courfeyrac considers that, turns it around in his head for a moment. “Maybe,” he admits. 

When he has to go, it’s too soon. He likes Enjolras, wouldn’t mind spending some more time with him, but he’s still not ready to settle. So he says goodbye the way he knows best: with his tongue on Enjolras’ dick. It isn’t until he’s on another plane that he realizes that he doesn’t remember if they used a condom. Whoops. He’s always been pretty careful, he reasons. Surely he didn’t forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?” -> do you want to sleep with me, but very impolite. the original song was already out by the time this is set.
> 
> “Tu es ridicule" -> you're ridiculous
> 
> “Tu m’aimes" -> you like/love me
> 
> “Viens" -> come/follow
> 
> "Qu'est ce que.." -> what the.. 
> 
> "Merde" -> fuck


	2. Chapter 2

“Wait! No! Wait for me!” Courfeyrac runs down the dock, waving his ticket in the air, but it’s too late. The ferry going to Kalokairi is gone without him. Courfeyrac pouts, and lowers his arm. 

“Next one’s not until tomorrow,” the ticket man tells him, more bored than genuinely apologetic. If there’s only one boat per day, Courfeyrac can see why he’d be bored. 

“Boo,” he frowns. He’s in the middle of nowhere; what’s he going to do? He looks around; there are a few other boats moored. “Don’t suppose you know anyone who’d give me a lift?”

“All the way to Kalokairi?” The ticket man shakes his head. “I doubt it.” 

“Not even for this pretty face?” Courfeyrac raises his hands to frame the face in question. 

The ticket man laughs - not mean-spiritedly, he just seems to think it’s funny. “Well, you can hang around and see if anyone comes by and offers.” 

Courfeyrac does just that. It’s beautiful, at least, the sun over the Mediterranean Sea. Courfeyrac thinks that, well, maybe it’s not the end of the world that he got stranded here. Sure, it would be nice to be arriving at his destination, but well, the whole point of this was to let go of plans for a little while, right? And this is nice. 

Of course, nice only lasts so long. He gets bored pretty quickly. He goes back to the ticket booth, but no one is there anymore. He shrugs, and drops his backpack on the pier, and takes his shirt and jeans off for good measure - he doesn’t have that much spare clothing, after all. In his boxers and his binder, he takes a running leap off the end of the dock, and into the ocean. He shouts out and laughs as he comes to the surface again, and treads water for a minute, before swimming out a little further. He spots a boat coming in, and gets out of the way, swims alongside it as it docks. 

“Oh!” There’s a man on the boat. He’s tall, and he’s dressed in light, loose clothes, meant to keep the heat off of him on the water. Courfeyrac’s first thought is that he’s absolutely beautiful. “You startled me. Be careful, you don’t want to end up hit by a boat,” the man warns. 

“Oh, gosh, you’re absolutely right,” Courfeyrac says with a sly smile, looking the man up and down. “This is a very nice boat you’ve got.” 

“Thank you,” the man says. 

“I’m Courfeyrac,” Courfeyrac introduces himself. 

“Combeferre,” the man on the boat replies. 

“Permission to come aboard, captain?” Courfeyrac asks, winking up at him from the water. 

“Oh. Well, if you like,” Combeferre agrees. He takes off his glasses, fidgets with them, puts them back on his face. 

Courfeyrac swings himself over the side of the boat, and sits on the edge. Combeferre watches him from a cautious distance. 

“So,” Courfeyrac drawls, “You come here often?”

“I suppose,” Combeferre says. “I’m doing research.” 

“Ooh,” Courfeyrac stands, and walks towards him. “What kind of research?” He reaches out, hand brushing Combeferre’s arm. 

Combeferre’s eyes go wide. “Um. There’s - a shark. Endangered species, it’s uh. Gotten off its usual migration pattern, I’m uh. I’m investigating.” 

“Wow. You must be really smart,” Courfeyrac says. “And brave, chasing a shark all on your own.” 

“Oh. Well, sharks are actually hugely maligned animals,” Combeferre says. “I mean, you should always be careful, of course, but sharks are responsible for fewer than thirteen deaths per year, which is statistically speaking incredibly insignificant. And this one’s an angel shark, I mean, she could bite me, I guess, if I was careless, but it would really be my own fault if she did.” 

“Huh. I honestly didn’t know that,” Courfeyrac says. He would put money on Combeferre being the weird kid in middle school with a niche interest he would tell everyone about. He doesn't mean it in a judgemental way, he would have no room to talk. He thinks it’s kinda cute, actually. Combeferre’s enthusiasm is charming. “Tell me more, shark man.” 

“You want me to tell you about sharks?” Combeferre asks. 

“I just asked, didn’t I?”

“I suppose you did.” Combeferre smiles slightly. Courfeyrac smiles back. God, what an adorable nerd. “Well.. angel sharks are critically endangered, and I’ve been part of a project tracking their migration patterns, trying to see what’s changing that could be impacting..”

He carries on for a little while. Courfeyrac sits on the bin which holds research equipment and life preservers, and puts his chin in his hands, leaning in to listen. His eyes follow Combeferre’s lips, and his hands - Combeferre gesticulates a lot as he talks. Combeferre has very nice hands, Courfeyrac muses to himself. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’ve been going on for ages,” Combeferre eventually cuts himself off. 

“No, no, I asked, and I promise, I was fascinated by you the whole time,” Courfeyrac assures him with a cheeky smile. He was fascinated by the sharks, too, of course, but he had been a little distracted by Combeferre’s hands. 

“Oh. Well - still, it was rude of me to just go on for so long. What about you, what brings you this way?” Combeferre asks, a blush high on his cheeks. 

“Oh, me? I’m just a tourist,” Courfeyrac admits. “I’m supposed to be visiting Kalokairi, but I missed my ferry. Now I have to wait for the next boat to come - but that’s not until tomorrow.” 

“I see,” Combeferre says. He pushes his glasses up his nose, and blushes a little more. “Well - if you don’t feel like waiting, I’m sure I could help you out.” 

“You wouldn’t mind?” Courfeyrac asks, eager. 

“No, not at all,” Combeferre assures him. 

Courfeyrac sees the way Combeferre is looking at him. He grins, wide, and winks. “That’s so kind of you.” He stands again, saunters over. “However can I thank you?” He puts a hand on Combeferre’s chest. 

Combeferre places a hand on Courfeyrac’s waist. “I’m sure we can come to some agreement. Not, of course,” he clarifies quickly, “That I would demand-” 

“Shush.” Courfeyrac puts a finger to Combeferre’s lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Combeferre nods, so Courfeyrac does. 

They make out for a few minutes, the warm breeze ruffling Courfeyrac’s hair, Combeferre’s hands on his sides. 

“If we’re going today, we should head out,” Combeferre murmurs. 

“Off we go then, Captain,” Courfeyrac replies. 

They come apart slowly, and Combeferre goes to the cabin. Courfeyrac fetches his things from the dock, pulls in his clothes again, and then follows, and takes the seat next to Combeferre. The boat rumbles to life, and then they’re off. It’s a beautiful day, sunny and just a little on the side of too warm. Courfeyrac leaves the cabin after a little while to sunbathe in the back of the boat. His sunglasses are perched on his nose, and his eyes are closed as he soaks up the sunlight. He only looks up when he feels the boat stop, and hears footsteps approach. 

“You look comfortable,” Combeferre observes. He sounds amused. 

“I am,” Courfeyrac says. “Come and see.” He’s glad Combeferre has decided to take a break from steering the boat; he thinks he’ll enjoy his company. 

Combeferre lays down beside him, and they both stay there for a moment, soaking up the sun together. “Why Kalokairi?” Combeferre asks eventually. “There’s not much there, is there? For a tourist, I mean.” 

Courfeyrac shrugs. “I wanted an adventure,” he says, “So I threw a dart at a map and said I’d go where it landed. It was my friend’s idea.”

“Just like that?” Combeferre asks. 

“Just like that,” Courfeyrac agrees. “I’m lucky, I know I am - when I decide to go home, my father will still hire me into his law firm, my path will still all be there, just as it was when I left. I’m not risking anything by doing this, it’s a privilege.”

“Yes,” Combeferre agrees, but he’s not judging Courfeyrac. “Is that what you’ll do? Go home and become a lawyer? Work for your father?”

Courfeyrac wrinkles his nose, but he says, “What else am I meant to do? I can’t travel the world forever, even if I don’t want to stop.” 

“I don’t know. But it’s your life, isn’t it? To do with as you please.” 

“I suppose.” Courfeyrac rolls onto his side to face Combeferre, studying him. “Maybe I’ll just become your assistant. I could travel on this boat, help you track endangered sharks.” 

Combeferre laughs. “I don’t know if my grant money will cover another person’s salary,” he says. 

“I can think of other ways you can pay me,” Courfeyrac says, wiggling his eyebrows at Combeferre. 

Combeferre rolls over, too, so they’re facing each other. Their noses are almost touching. He reaches out, touches Courfeyrac’s cheek. Courfeyrac’s eyes flutter closed, and Combeferre smiles to himself. He guides Courfeyrac in closer, and kisses him. 

Courfeyrac makes a soft sound, and parts his lips, letting Combeferre deepen the kiss. 

“You’re beautiful,” Combeferre says, and it would be cringy from anyone else, but he’s so goddamn sincere that Courfeyrac can only blush. He feels exposed, here - there’s no one for miles and miles, nothing but the vast expanse of the sea, but he also feels the sun on his skin, and it’s exhilarating. 

Combeferre kisses him again, and then pulls Courfeyrac’s shirt over his head. Courfeyrac raises his arms to ease the way, and then reaches for Combeferre. Combeferre pulls his own shirt off, and Courfeyrac runs his hands across his chest. “You’re pretty hot, for a nerd,” Courfeyrac jokes. 

Combeferre laughs and shakes his head, and kisses Courfeyrac again. He has one hand on the back of Courfeyrac’s head to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself as Combeferre presses him gently down onto the floor of the boat again, and straddles his waist. Courfeyrac thinks it’s very considerate of him - it’s nice. Combeferre is very nice. 

Combeferre undresses them both the rest of the way. Courfeyrac stretches out on the floor of the ship unabashedly, enjoying the way Combeferre’s eyes track him. “See something you like?” he asks, playful. 

“Yes.” Combeferre is, as always, frank. 

“Then what are you waiting for?” 

Combeferre has a hand on Courfeyrac’s chest as he leans in to kiss him again, and when he presses two fingers against Courfeyrac, they come away wet. Courfeyrac whines. “Don’t tease.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Combeferre says with a hint of a smile, playing at innocent. Courfeyrac sticks his tongue out at Combeferre, and Combeferre finally gives in. It turns out Courfeyrac was right to fantasize about those hands, because Combeferre only needs his fingers to bring Courfeyrac through two earth-shattering orgasms. Courfeyrac is oversensitive and trembling, laid out beneath Combeferre, when Combeferre finally fucks him properly. 

“‘Ferre,” Courfeyrac gasps, hands grabbing at Combeferre’s back. He’s sure he’s leaving scratches behind, but from the sound Combeferre makes, he doesn’t think Combeferre minds. 

They finish together. Courfeyrac is wrung out and pleased as can be about it; the afterglow is wonderful, and when Combeferre gathers him up in his arms, and presses soft, gently kisses to his skin, he feels like he could just melt. Combeferre is damn near perfect. He sighs happily and snuggles up to Combeferre for just a little longer, before they both jump into the water to clean up a bit. 

Courfeyrac dips underwater, and sneaks up carefully on Combeferre. He grabs his ankle and tugs, dashing backwards and coming back up to laugh uncontrollably. Combeferre splutters and laughs with him, before advancing with a keen look in his eye. 

“Uh oh..” Courfeyrac laughs nervously and backs away, but Combeferre is the better swimmer by far. He splashes a wave of water at Courfeyrac, who is too busy laughing to dodge, and Courfeyrac retaliates by kicking up a splash back at Combeferre. They’re both laughing - Courfeyrac is laughing so hard he thinks he’s going to start crying. 

When they climb back onto the boat, they’re both starving. Combeferre produces some oranges from the cabin, and they share them on the front of the boat, laying on the bow together. Combeferre offers him a slice, and Courfeyrac eats it from his fingers, lips and tongue lingering on Combeferre’s fingertips. Combeferre’s gaze on him is heated, and Courfeyrac smiles, coy. 

It’s some time before they’re on the move again. 

They do, eventually, arrive at the island. Courfeyrac is dressed in his spare clothes, now. His binder is still soaking wet, so he’s borrowed one of Combeferre’s shirts, which is big and billowy enough to hide his chest anyway. From the way Combeferre is looking at him, Courfeyrac assumes it suits him. Still - their arrival means it’s time to go their separate ways. Courfeyrac kisses Combeferre goodbye. “Thanks for the ride,” he says, and winks. 

“Anytime,” Combeferre says. He hesitates before returning to the boat, but Courfeyrac doesn’t invite him to stay, so he doesn’t. 

Courfeyrac considers it, of course. He likes Combeferre, and he likes fucking Combeferre. But he’s supposed to be having a footloose and fancy free vacation, not settling down with a hot marine biology nerd, so he lets Combeferre go. He’s not interested in anything serious, after all. 

Courfeyrac has an entire island to explore as a distraction. He walks around for a while. It’s beautiful, as beautiful as he’d imagined, and even more impressive in person. The village on the island is cute, too, all terracotta and stone and blue paint. He winds up at a little bar, in the evening. It’s empty, as of right now. There’s a raised stage in one corner, and a few tables scattered around. He sits at the bar, and peers around to see if there’s someone working. “Hello?” he calls out. 

“Shit! Hey - oh, hey, I don’t know you.” A woman appears from a back room. Her hair is tied up in a ponytail, and she looks at Courfeyrac with sharp eyes. 

“Hi, yeah, I’m just on vacation.” 

“Here?” she asks dubiously. 

“Should I not be?”

“Well.. we don’t get a lot of visitors? The ferry only comes once a day, and the hotel’s been abandoned for years.” 

“Oh.” Maybe he should have done at least a little planning before he arrived, he realizes. 

“How’d you even get here? I didn’t see you come in on the ferry,” she asks. 

“Combeferre gave me a ride.” At her blank look, he elaborates, “He’s doing research on a shark or something in the area.” 

“Huh.” The woman looks him over. “Well, I’m Eponine, I own this place,” she gestures at the bar. “Can I get you something?”

“Gin and tonic?” Courfeyrac requests. Eponine’s pour is generous. “Thanks.” 

He sips his drink and looks around the bar again. “Slow night?”

“It’s a Tuesday,” she says. 

Courfeyrac nods. “Right. Yeah.” He takes another sip. “Nice place.” 

“Thanks,” Eponine says. “So, what brings you to Kalokairi?” 

“Oh, you know,” Courfeyrac waves a hand. “Chance and a whim.” 

“Mhm..” Eponine nods slowly. 

“I threw a dart at a map,” Courfeyrac explains. “Said I’d go wherever it lands.”

“You must be running from something you really don’t wanna deal with,” Eponine observes. 

Courfeyrac laughs. “You could say that.” 

“Tell you what,” Eponine says. “The hotel isn’t, you know, staffed, or anything, but it’s just up the hill. You should be able to find a place to crash in the farmhouse or something.” 

“Is that allowed?” Courfeyrac asks. 

“It’s mine,” she shrugs, “So sure.” 

Courfeyrac finishes his drink and nods. “Alright,” he agrees. “Thanks, Eponine.” 

“Hey, American,” she calls after him when he’s halfway out the door. “I never got your name.” 

“Courfeyrac,” he calls over his shoulder. 

  
  
  


The hotel is nice. It’s crumbling, of course, but as Courfeyrac walks through it, he can imagine what it might look like with furnishing and some effort. He knows next to nothing about renovating, or fixing up a place like this. He doesn’t know how to get it from this to what he’s seeing in his mind, and he knows it’s not like he’d have the opportunity anyway, but - well. He’s always been a dreamer. He stands at the top of the hill, and looks out. It’s a beautiful view - there could be a terrace here. He imagines where he’d put a stage, some hanging lanterns, patio furniture. 

He finds a dry corner and some old blankets to sleep on, and in the morning, he goes back into town. He ends up back in Eponine’s bar, which apparently also serves breakfast, and has some orange juice and an omelette. “Thanks for letting me crash up there,” Courfeyrac says through a mouthful of eggs. 

“No worries,” Eponine says, wiping down a glass behind the counter. 

“It’s beautiful,” Courfeyrac continues. “Why don’t you have it open?”

Eponine shrugs. “This is enough for me. Managing both would be a lot. And we don’t get a lot of visitors anyway.”

“I walked around and, I dunno, I could just imagine it, you know?” Courfeyrac tells her. “All cleaned up, people coming and going. A patio for that view, a garden - I noticed there’s a whole grove of orange trees.” 

“I guess.” 

Courfeyrac keeps going. He tells her about how he imagines it, how he might clean it up and get it running again. How maybe it would bring people here. Maybe they could have community events there, festivals and parties and weddings and concerts. 

Eponine looks thoughtful as he talks. “I mean, do it then,” she says. 

“What?” Courfeyrac blinks at her. 

“Tell you what, American. If you can fix it up like you said, I’ll give it to you. You can have it.” 

“Why?” he asks, baffled. “You don’t even know me. I could fuck it up.” 

“Yeah. But hey - I’m not doing anything with it anyway, and you could also bring it to life,” she shrugs. “I’ve got a good feeling about you, I guess. And if you try to turn it into condos, or something, I’ll just feed you to your boyfriend’s shark.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Courfeyrac blushes. 

“Sure.” Eponine shakes her head. “So?”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah. Yes.” Courfeyrac thinks for a second about his job as a lawyer back home, and he thinks about how his father will kill him. And he nods anyway. “Yeah, you know what, I think I will.” 


End file.
